Journalist, blogger, animal lover.

BY APRIL KNIGHT My fascination with Vincent van Gogh began when I first heard my older brother strumming Don McLean’s “Vincent.” A tribute to the Dutch post-impressionist, the song’s imagery was so concrete it played like a montage of colors in my head: thick strokes of blue across a blank canvas, yellow daffodils bending…

BY APRIL KNIGHT There are some moments in life, no matter how long ago, that can still give you a good punch in the gut every time you think about them. The moment I voluntarily jumped off a perfectly good airplane always does it for me. Skydiving is no longer an uncommon experience; you’re bound to have…

BY APRIL KNIGHT All research done by the V.I. Sea Turtle Project under the University of the Virgin Islands Marine and Environmental Science Center is conducted pursuant to a National Marine Fisheries Service permit. The seabed shimmered a dark green, barely reached by the filtered midday light. Darker coral lay in…

It was in 2014, at the peak of the Virgin Islands General Election, when I received the worst trolling to a story I wrote — the worst, because it’s the last thing any journalist wants to hear. At the center of the article was the possibility of a gubernatorial runoff, which the controversial hand-count of the ballots…

In honor of all the good that was done amid the horror of Super Typhoon Haiyan. The deadliest storm in history hit the Philippines on the eve of my sister’s birthday. One year ago, Marian Abigail, who was turning 11, was chatting with my mother on her tablet, describing the crack of…

The Fales lived in Buntog, the part of Dumalag that lies in the path of the old railroad. Up until the early 1970s, under the Marcos regime, the “Burban” and the “Diesel” made stops there as they chugged across the Western Visayan provinces.

Uncle Benjie said he used to take the trains to nearby Passi to buy pineapples. The busy railroad infused Buntog with life and energy, my mother recalled, making it the most prosperous barangay in Dumalag.

Puerto Rico stole my heart. However briefly, Jae and I were transported to a different world, and every minute that we spent there reminded us of it. Old San Juan was a pleasant assault on the senses — the crisp, rapid Spanish erupting from its jovial people, the strong aroma of coffee…

When I was a very young child, I used to think the world was a straight line. I knew of maps, of course, and that the world was round, but my mind, which probably couldn’t fathom how large the earth must be for me not to see the land bend, pieced together its…

August 24, 2013 It was a year after our wedding, and I wanted to do something special. Without telling me, Jae booked two nights in a little cottage at a beautiful campground on St. John, one of the U.S. Virgin Islands, and the most untouched by development. With no cellphone reception and no Internet, I thought, Dear…